I have nothing more to write about,
Since you moved in; all else moved out,
All thoughts of how to win your heart,
Of love and joy in equal parts,
All are gone; and there a drought.

And ever since that fateful day
I lay my words out on display,
All too dated and so cliche,
But what am I supposed to do?
A hopeless fool when meeting you,
And in romance I'll stay the same,
My heart forever calls your name.

Yet even so I wonder then,
What good to me is written pen,
When nothing seems to find its place,
Longing still for better days.